"The Phantom Owlhoot"
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dochermes"The Phantom Owlhoot"
A Trom Girl Mystery
5/29/2004
I.
Megan Salenger assured herself by Archie's breathing that he was soundly asleep. Slowly and carefully, she slid off her side of the bed in the Holiday Inn and stepped away to stand naked in the center of the room. At twenty-three, she was slim and sleek with small breasts and narrow hips. Only five foot three, Megan had the trim muscles of a gymnast or acrobat, not obtrusive but functional.
The Trom Girl brushed her tousled head of black hair back away from her face and smiled down at Archie. What a pleasant surprise to find she enjoyed sex so much. She had waited so long because of her repressed upbringing. Their first time together had been in fact her first time, and it had been awkward and hesitant but she quickly had grown to love making love. For a while, it had been all she had wanted to do. Meeting Archie had been one revelation about herself after another.
Outside the drawn curtains, only the faint lights of the parking lot showed dimly. It wasn't quite dawn yet. Megan stood in the center of the room, fists by her side and feet together, and bowed low to Teacher Chael at Tel Shai, farther away than miles could measure. She had to practice her Doh Ra. First, there was a series of poses and stances that gradually became slow motion punches and blocks and kicks. The movements sped up. Soon her arms and legs were whipping and blurring as she seemed to be fighting an imaginary group of opponents, then the motion decelerated again until she was holding difficult poses and slowly coming to a halt.
The whole process took a little over forty minutes. Her individual Doh Ra had been planned specifically for her by Teacher Chael, and at its end every muscle had been stretched and warmed up while reinforcing the memory of Kumundu attacks and defenses into her reflexes. Chael emphasized constantly that full contact sparring was the other half of Kumundu training. She was sweating very lightly, barely breathing any faster than when she had started, and she felt great. Her childhood under the board of Trom supervisors had always emphasised taking care of her body as well as stretching her mind as far as Human limits would reach.
Archie had not stirred, except to turn over on his other side. Still making no sound, Megan slipped into the bathroom and took a quick shower under steaming hot water. She dried her hair roughly with a towel and was back out in the main room within a few minutes. The Trom Girl went over to the chair by the big double bed and held up what looked like a leotard of dark silk that had a sheen to it. Almost with regret, she opened it on its inner paramagnetic seams and tugged it on. Except for her feet and hands and above her shoulders, she was now covered in Trom armor that would stop even a high-powered rifle bullet but which was so light and flexible that it was not restrictive at all. Megan had a strong urge to skip wearing it today. She was not on KDF business, she was not here in Nevada as a Tel Shai knight, this was a holiday. But prudence won out.
As she tugged on snug white jeans and a black T-shirt, she watched Archie stir and smack his lips and stretch. Megan enjoyed watching him for its own sake. Archie McAllister was a big guy a few years older than she was, with thick black hair on his chest and always a few day's worth of beard. He reminded her so much of a bear the imagery was irresistable. As he rubbed his blue eyes and sat up, he grinned at her, "Morning, Trom Girl. You're eager to get started, eh?"
She leaned over and kissed him lightly, then stepped back to tug the curtains slightly open. Outside was getting brighter. "I am hungry," she answered. "We skipped supper last night, if you remember." Megan picked up a red flannel shirt from the back of the chair where she had tossed it and pulled it on. The Trom armor meant she had to wear long sleeves no matter what the weather was like.
Archie chuckled and got out of bed to stand behind her, hands on her shoulders. He nuzzled the side of her neck. "It was for a good reason. So, listen, you want room service or you want to go out and eat?"
"I would prefer to eat at that diner we saw while driving in, how about you?"
"Suits me fine," he agreed as he headed for the bathroom. She heard the door close and the shower start up. Megan shook her head thoughtfully. This was all so unexpected. A Human orphan raised by the emotionless Trom, she had never even considered the idea of romance in her plans and yet here it was. Nature seemed to take over at a certain point and she had to admit she was glad. Her fellow Tel Shai knights back in New York City had been first stunned and then delighted when she had started dating a motorcycle mechanic and they all were happy for her. Even Unicorn had kept the teasing to a minimum.
As Archie showered, Megan went to her knapsack and started stowing small unidentifiable gadgets in various pockets. The Link itself, her main tool, looked enough like a cellphone in its case on her belt that it would not attract any attention but the beam projector had to be hidden. A dull grey metal oblong that fit easily in the palm of her hand, the projector went into the breast pocket of her flannel shirt which she buttoned. It was a far cry from the dozens of tools and weapons she carried in her KDF field suit but she could not bring herself to discard everything right away.
Still the Trom Girl, she thought.
Archie emerged all scrubbed and wide awake. He began digging through his old Army duffel bag and looking for socks and underwear. "So, hon, what's the agenda today? Going after that ghost sighting?"
"You must think I'm crazy, Archie. This is your vacation, your week away from the garage, and I drag you out into the desert to investigate paranormal activity." Megan Salenger kept the doubt out of her voice, or thought she did. "I must be a nuisance as a girlfriend."
Archie was pulling on her old comfortable jeans and work boots. "Nah, time spent with you is always amazing. You were born to solve puzzles and figure out mysteries, Megan, it's your basic nature. We're better off accepting what we are."
"You seem to accept all the... unusual things about me," she said. "Tel Shai. My upbringing by the Trom. My work with the KDF. Nothing seems to faze you."
Archie buttoned on a heavy denim shirt and rolled up the cuffs over muscular forearms. "Aw, I have to admit it's a lot to take in. But you know, I hitched around Europe two years after I got out of the service. I saw some strange things. It's a funny world with a lot more going on than most people ever realize." He waggled a finger at her. "The so-called Trom, hah! I knew our government had some sort of knowledge retro-engineered from UFO crashes!"
He came over and hugged her, and she returned it fiercely. Looking up into his face, Megan said, "I'm glad. I was worried you would panic and run away when you found out about my life. I couldn't have dealt with that."
"Feh. Megan, you're amazing. It'd be worth going through Hell to be with you. Now, what exactly is your project for today, Trom Girl?"
Pulling away with a grin that made her look even younger, Megan gestured toward the partly opened curtains. "First a huge breakfast. Then we start looking for the local paranormal manifestation... Stone Ridge's 'Phantom 'Owlhoot.'"
II.
After devouring huge amounts of wheatcakes, bacon and scrambled eggs, as well as coffee for Archie and cranberry juice for Megan, they sighed in satisfaction and leaned back in their booth at the diner.
"Now I feel more balanced," she said.
"I still get the urge for a cig after a meal," Archie grumbled. "And it's been two years since my last puff."
"I for one am glad you quit before we met. Your fondness for beer is enough self-destructive behavior." Megan tapped the empty plate in front of her ruefully. "Although I cannot preach since I so frequently deviate from my planned diet."
"Glad to be a corrupting influence," he answered with a leer. "I'll lead you astray in all kinds of ways. Anyway. what's your plan for this ghost hunt?"
"My research has not been satisfactory. There is little information available on this Phantom Owlhoot. There are three newspaper accounts of sightings in 1927, 1949 and 1983. I have read all of them. One month ago, the phenomenon was sighted again outside of this town, near the site of the Gusoff Silver Mine. The glowing figure of a cowboy with a rope around his neck..."
Looking at the bill and figuring an appropriate tip, Archie laid some money down and stood up. "Huh. I thought, you know, that place where you work, the Kenneth Dred Foundation, had information about anything supernatural."
Getting to her feet and stretching, Trom Girl shrugged. "I'm sure the knowledge is there somewhere. Kenneth Dred spent decades building an extensive library of books and articles on the occult. That building is filled with hundreds of thousands of books, but unfortunately he never organized them well. Finding what one seeks is a haphazard proposal at best."
"Too bad." Archie held the door for her and she accepted the gesture. Learning basic social interactions had been difficulty for her after her clinical upbringing. They went down the concrete steps to where her cherry red Jeep Wrangler sat. As always, its rear compartment was stocked with jugs of water, containers of gasoline, food and medical supplies, all carefully separated and secured. She always traveled as if going into a war zone or disaster area.
"I did find one reference that might be relevant," Megan said. Her tone changed to indicate she was quoting something. "In 1907, a drifter named Jed Dunne had made off with over $10,000 in paper cash, silver dollars and gold coins, the haul from a stagecoach robbery. The loot was never recovered and Dunne was never captured. Two months after the robbery, he died alone of pneumonia out on the high plains. It was after only his body was discovered that the connection was made between him and the robbery, since he had a bracelet on him that take been taken during the crime."
Archie grunted to show interest and swung up into the passenger seat as she hopped lightly up behind the wheel. They had not discussed it much, but Megan had a substantial bank account because her KDF stipend had been regularly deposited while she lived for free at the HQ building on East 38th Street in New York City and she spent little on herself. Archie made an okay living restoring and customizing old motorcycles, but he was old-fashioned enough to never dream of using her for money.
Pulling out onto the Main Street of Stone Ridge, Nevada, with its traffic just starting to stir into life, Megan Salenger slipped on a pair of wire-rimmed tinted glasses. "Do these make me look silly?"
"Aw, no, you're cute as all hell. Aviator glasses and a brand new Wrangler, you're fine."
"Good. I have little instinct for style. Dunne's long-time crony, a man called Dirty Pete was accused of the robbery. He refused to talk, tried to escape and shot a child to death as he was riding on a stolen horse toward the vicinity of the silver mine. Between horse stealing and killing a little boy, there was no trial for him. He was lynched from a tree within sight of the mine. Five times since then, a figure of a cowboy with a rope around his neck has been reported around there."
"Yikes," Archie said.
"First, I want to inspect the scene where the phenomenon was reported. Then, there should be a man in the area who may be of use to us. He has written two books about the supernatural and many articles. Dr Alan Langston. My information is that he has also come here to investigate."
Archie smiled as they tore down I-109 at just over the speed limit. He loved the way Megan drove like a fighter pilot, constantly checking all the mirrors and watching other vehicles and monitoring the dashboard. He had gone for a few flights with her in the KDF helicopter CORBY and he realized she drove the Jeep with the same attention she showed behind the stick of the chopper. It was reassuring. You would not catch her texting on her phone or fiddling with the radio while making a turn.
Almost an hour passed before they turned onto a dirt road far outside of town, near outcroppings of boulders that rose to become foothills further back. A yellow wooden sawhorse blocked the road, with a sign CONDEMNED -UNSAFE and a tacked notice from the Sheriff's Department not to proceed any further. There were also a few NO TRESPASSING SIGNS, which Megan blithely ignored as she swerved off the dirt road to keep going.
Ahead, the opening of the old silver mine yawned open. Two-by-fours had been nailed together to form an X over the mouth, with more warnings posted. She brought the Wrangler to a stop and vaulted out as lightly as a gymnast. As Archie watched, Megan slowly circled the entrance, studying every detail, pausing to look from different angles or to kneel and examine the ground.
He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just outside the opening of the mine, two steel tracks emerged with wooden struts between them but the car in which ore had been brought up was long gone. That was it.
After a few more minutes, the Trom Girl straightened up and folded her arms across her chest. "There were at least four separate adult Humans here a few days ago. That cigarette butt is starting to come apart, it was exposed to morning dew. Tire tracks appropriate for a Dodge Ram and for a Hyundai Sonata stop where we are parked, but the Hyundai tracks overlap those of the Dodge, so that car arrived later." She bent over a boulder. "One individual has been seated here within the past twenty-four hours. This broken branch indicates that. The dirt here is oddly disarranged, I can't decide exactly what activity he was performing."
"You got better eyes than I do."
"Yes," she replied in that frequently graceless way she had of commenting. "Look here. Do you see those footprints emerging from the mine but not entering?"
Archie went along with it, crouching low over the loose dirt by steel tracks. "Yeah. I do. What about 'em?"
"They are prints made by cowboy boots. The heels, the square toes. I estimate size 12." She indicated the mouth of the mine and asked, "How can these tracks emerge without having first entered?"
"Hm. Wellllll.... maybe he was walking backward? You know, to leave a false trail?"
She considered this. "I don't think so. The weight distribution would be different. Let's investigate further." She took the beam projector from a pocket and slid open the groove on its upper surface. Around the back of her belt were a half dozen slim rectangular cartridges, and she took one to click it into place.
"Oh, that thing," Archie said. "You gonna burn a hole through something or knock that boulder away?"
"Just visible light for right now," Megan said, thumbing a contact patch. An extremely bright thread of white light shone from the projector, enough to make Archie blink and look away as he saw spots. She adjusted it down to a bearable level and widened the beam into a cone.
"I do not intend to go far into the mine," she told him. "If I see something significant, I will call you."
"Until then, I stay out here and wait?"
"Yes," she answered bluntly and marched into the dark opening. Standing out in the beautiful May sunlight, Archie McAllister sighed. The girl was a sweetheart but sometimes she just showed no social skills. It was almost as if she had been raised by a board of genius scientists, as she claimed. The minutes crawled by. He started to pace and was just beginning to get worried when she emerged again.
Megan replaced the cartridge to her belt and pocketed the beam projector again. She slapped her hands together as if dusting them and announced, "There has been a good deal of recent activity down there, Archie. Yet nothing is present that should not logically be there. I found an antique oil lamp, cracked and dried out, but no objects more recent than that."
"Odd..."
"Yes." The Trom Girl studied the area with obvious dissatisfaction. "My detective skills are not up to my captain's level, I admit. I can observe but not make the correct deductions. Our next step should be to speak with the man who saw the apparition and with Dr Langston."
"Fine with me," Archie said. "I dunno.. maybe I'm being gullible, but there seems to be something kind of creepy around here."
III.
The meeting with Henry Pelham was not productive. He turned out to be a retired bus driver living with his son and daughter-in-law, and evidently he had taken a bit too much teasing over his reporting the sight of a glowing cowboy out in the desert. At first, he refused to even open the front door all the way. Megan was not good at laying on the charm the way Unicorn was, but she was a pretty young woman with a sincere manner and Pelham soon gave in and came out to talk with her. Archie remained discreetly in the Jeep, just out of earshot.
Exactly a week earlier, Pelham had been driving his truck outside of town after a heated argument with his son had left him fuming. He went out for an hour or so to cool off and happened to be barreling past the old silver mine when he noticed a speak of light up on the hill.
As he swung his truck over to stop, Pelham had seen a man watching him from atop the hill. A man in a cowboy suit, complete with Stetson hat and cowhide vest, but shimmering with a faint white radiance. From its loop around his neck hung a length of thick hemp rope. The apparition was close enough that he could see the handlebar mustache on the thing.
Pelham admitted he had gotten out of the truck, walked over for a better view and had not moved moved after that for a few minutes. Relating the experience to everyone, he had insisted he had not been afraid but just curious and had figured it had to have been some sort of prank. He admitted quietly to Megan that, in fact, he had been afraid and uncertain just what was going on. Then the Phantom Owlhoot had whipped out a revolver from a holster on its old-fashioned gunbelt and snapped off four shots directly at him.
Naturally, Pelham had jumped back into his truck and floored it, swinging around and roaring back to town with his heart pounding and difficulty catching his breath. It wasn't until he got home that he felt calmed down enough that heart attack wasn't likely.
"You know what really helped convince me, miss?" Pelham confided in a low voice. "That thing shot at me at point-blank range. I could see inside the barrel of his Colt, he was so close. Even if the Phantom had never fired a gun before, one of those slugs should have hit him or the truck. Nothing. That was the clincher."
Megan Salenger asked him a few more questions and thanked him for his help. She had shown him her credentials, her documentation as a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation and her laminated card as civilian consultant to the New York City Police Department and to Department 21 Black of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. After Pelham had scrutinized these and been satisfied, he went on, "You know, missy, there is another researcher in the paranormal and supernatural and whatever. He's been poking around here too. Guy named Langston. He's staying at a bungalow on the other side of town. You might wanna talk to him."
"I will," the Trom Girl said. "Thank you again. This is a very interesting incident. I'm glad you decided to relate your experience to me."
Joining Archie back at the Wrangler, she asked, "Would you mind driving, hon? I want to think over all the details?"
"Sure, no problem." he said as he climbed out of the passenger seat and went around to get behind the wheel. "I was just close enough to hear most of what you guys said. That bit about the bullets not doing any harm is eerie."
"Another detail interests me. Mr Pelham said he moved here from Los Angeles three years ago to stay with his family. They weren't from around here either, the son had come here for a job. Pelham said he was sure he had never heard of the local folklore before. No one had ever mentioned anything about a Phantom Owlhoot to him."
"Huh." Archie shrugged and turned to look at her for a second."If he's telling the truth, that's another creepy factor to the story."
"My training in reading body language and subvocal variations indicated he was speaking the truth as he knows it." Megan had her arms folded across her chest and a slightly pouting frown. "Interesting. I believe our next step is to meet with Dr Langston. Don't you agree?"
"Already heading there," Archie replied.
IV.
On the outskirts of Stone Ridge was a lake which had been made into a sort of local resort with diving boards, canoes for rent and a floating platform tethered in the middle for swimmers to rest on. A long open wooden structure held a snack bar, bathrooms and changing areas. COLD SPRING LAKE was lettered across the building. Archie pulled into the parking area where a half dozen cars sat, and beyond them were a row of three tiny bungalows.
"Here we go," he said, half as a question. There was only one car up there, a neatly waxed black Kia. "What do you know about this Langston dude anyway, honey?"
"He is only a modest success as an author on the occult. He is thirty-eight years old, unmarried with no children but he has a sister one year older who is said to collaborate with him on his writing." Megan raised her sunglasses and propped them up on her head, scrutinizing the area. "I do not have much more information, I am sorry to say. My working hypothesis is that he read of the Phantom Owlhoot sighting and intends to use it as a subject for an article."
"Yeah, well, there he is now!"
As they got out of the Jeep, Megan and Archie saw a tall thin man emerge through the screen door of the bungalow near them. He was wearing slippers, khaki pants and a white dress shirt, tucked in and with the cuffs rolled back. Alan Langston had a long, slightly horselike face with a bristle of short blond hair topping it. The glasses stayed down on the end of his nose where he evidently preferred them.
"Something I can help you folks with?" he drawled.
"Good morning," said the Trom Girl cheerfully as she approached him. "My name is Megan Salenger, I'm with the Kenneth Dred Foundation from New York. Maybe you've heard of us?"
"Eh? Oh absolutely." He grinned, but whether it was at the KDF reference or the sight of Megan was unclear. "My word, I grew up reading books by Kenneth Dred. He made everything seem so clear, even the more esoteric subjects. And the KDF has been carrying on his work. You're a researcher, then?"
"I am." she answered. "This is my colleague Archie. As you might guess, we are here in Nevada because of the Phantom Owlhoot sightings..."
"Hold on. Just hold on there. I've been investigating the apparition for some time now. Now, I can't claim the subject for my own but I don't know if I want to just share my results with you..."
Megan sounded just a little hurt. "I have no intention of usurping your work, Dr Langston. It seems logical that we should pool our efforts in this research, doesn't it?"
"And rush your book into print before mine? Stealing my potential sales? Using the Kenneth Dred name like a trademark? I don't THINK so!" Langston stepped back into the bungalow and closed the door firmly, just short of slamming it in their faces. Megan turned her huge dark eyes on Archie with a wounded expression. "I did not foresee that reaction, honey. He doesn't trust my integrity?"
"Naw, I don't think that's it." He put a big hand on her shoulder and drew her in for a squeezing side hug. "Tell you what I think. He's got something else eatin' at him, you just got in the line of fire. He would have snapped at someone bothering him to ask directions or just saying hello."
"That is what you think? You understand the minute details of Human interaction so much better than I do." She remained snuggled up close to him. "I have to admit it, Archie, being raised by the Trom has left me feeling alienated. Sometimes I feel like wherever I go, I'm in a foreign country."
"He's a jerk. Don't let him bother you." He steered her back toward the Jeep. "Tell you what. We'll give him another chance before we leave. He might have thought it over and be all apologetic. Meanwhile, you have lots of data to analyze from that mine site. You think it all over while I drive us back to the motel."
"Yes." She climbed up into the passenger seat. "There is one odd detail. Pelham said he was fired at within point-blank range but I saw no marks on his vehicle and there were no signs at the silver mine of a bullet hitting a rock or brush. I looked carefully. That's an interesting factor."
Archie shrugged as he started up the Wrangler and drew his shoulder restraint down. "Makes sense, though. Ghost cowboy shooting ghost bullets."
On their way back to Stone Ridge, Archie snapped his fingers. "Hey. You know it's after four o'clock. Either a late lunch or an early supper, but I think we need something."
"Why don't you use your judgement, Archie? Whatever looks good to you." She took the Link from her belt and patched into the phone system to call New York City with no chance of being traced or overheard. "Hi. Unicorn? It's me, out in Nevada, still looking into that Phantom Owlhoot sighting. What? That's none of your business. No, you don't need to know how many times we have 'done it' since leaving Manhattan. What? Can you be maid of honor? What are you TALKING about?! Let me speak to Sable."
After a few more minutes, Megan got Unicorn to settle down and report. There had not been much information on the Phantom Owlhoot phenomenon even in the vast library of occult literature Kenneth Dred had amassed in his lifetime. Sightings were at irregular intervals, and were actually not very dramatic. Someone out by the old silver mine would see a luminous cowboy with a noose around his neck, but the apparition never chased anyone or made threatening gestures. Once, in 1948, the ghost of Dirty Pete had been reported mounted on a similarly glowing white horse. As repeating apparitions went, the Phantom Owlhoot was not very notorious. No serious effort had been made by investigators to look into it.
"Until now," Megan said into her Link. "Now we are here at the same time Dr Langston is. What? Thank you, Ashley, but we do not require you to come to the rescue. Thank you anyway. Sorry? Yes, I will consider naming our first child after you." Her tone got just a bit icy. "You have been very helpful, I will see you when we get back. Goodbye."
As the Trom Girl clipped the Link back on her belt, she sighed audibly.
"That little girl's a joker, all right," Archie said. "She teases you because she thinks the world of you, you know that?"
"I think so," Megan agreed after a moment. "It took me a while to realize that. When we first worked together, she annoyed me immensely."
"Always more to learn about human nature," Archie said. "That's the truth. Look, how about this place here, JUANITA'S? You feel like tackling some Mexican food?"
She blinked and seemed surprised that they had pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant by the side of the road with bright yellow and red neon letters on the roof. "I am very hungry, Archie. I hadn't noticed."
An hour later, they emerged in a more sanguine mood than when they had entered. "I haven't had that brand of beer in a long time, now that hit my spot. How you feeling, Meg?"
"To be honest, I suspect I ate beyond a comfortable capacity. It will not be dark for hours. Can we return to the motel and rest until it is time to go back to the mine?"
"Sure thing." He held the Jeep door open for her affectionately. "Who knows how late we're going to be up tonight?"
V.
Around eight, Archie stirred and sat up on the double bed, where he had dozed off while reading the local newspaper. He ruffled his coarse hair with one hand and yawned. "What's the story, Trom Girl?"
From where she had been sitting in a chair by the window, Megan Salenger rose to her feet. "I have been considering this case from what i believe to be every possible combination of factors. I have reached some tentative conclusion." She went over and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Archie, my mind works at genius level but I will never be a first-rate investigator until I know people better. You are much wiser about human behavior than I think I will ever be."
"Well, I'm street smart," he said agreeably. "I left home when I was seventeen, joined the Army, bummed around Europe. Maybe I don't know science like you do, but I'm okay in my own way."
Megan leaned forward and kissed him slowly, disengaging with an audible smack as their lips parted. "I'm glad," she said. "Are you ready to go look for the ghost of Dirty Pete?"
He rolled off the bed and starting lacing up his well-worn tan work shoes. "It gets chilly at night out there. Maybe bring a jacket."
"Thank you." Megan took her dark windbreaker from its hanger. "Ashley said she found out Dr Langston was here because she tried to reach him for information. She said she dug further and found that Langston's sister had also flown out here a day after he had left. She thought this was odd because apparently they don't get along."
Tugging on a denim jacket, Archie frowned. "And what does that suggest?"
"I am not sure. It has some significance, but I do not know what." She sounded just a little annoyed. "The Trom taught me not to give any weight to hunches, yet I seem to find hunches are often very relevant."
As Archie stood by the door, he saw her take the beam projector from her breast pocket and click a cartridge in place. "Let me guess. The heat beam? That photon ram that knocks doors down?"
"Just the neural shock," she answered. "I didn't bring one of the anesthetic dart guns. Really, I should leave most of these devices at headquarters when on holiday."
He escorted her out into a pleasant May evening, checking that the room door was locked behind them. "You know, this is the third time we've investigated something weird together. Each time, something comes up that makes me glad you carry those gadgets." He chuckled. "The third of 'the Trom Girl Mysteries'"
VI.
They had left the Jeep more than a mile behind, parked well off the dirt road, and had hiked up to the mouth of the old silver mine. It was not completely dark even at eleven, with stars in a clear sky and the thinnest crescent moon possible. Megan had brought two powerful pencil flashlights but they had not needed them.
As they cuddled up against the rock outcropping, Archie said, "Man, you know how many guys tonight would love be sitting out under the stars with a pretty girl like you? They'd pray the Phantom Owlhoot NEVER shows?"
Megan did not seem to have taken in the comment. "Archie, indications showed there had been considerable activity within that mile before the recent Owlhoot sighting. So it was not the ghost that drew people here recently."
"Huh. Okay... so they were looking for the buried loot from the robbery?"
"I don't think that is likely," she said just above a whisper. "This vicinity has been thoroughly searched for decades in attempts to find that treasure. Nothing was dug up. No, I suspect the opposite action was undertaken..."
Before she could explain that statement, Archie gave a gulp and leaped to his feet. She was immediately up beside him.
Standing on a twelve foot high boulder opposite them, seemingly appearing from nowhere, was a man in a worn Western outfit, completely from Stetson hat to gunbelt to cowhide vest. Dangling from a noose around his neck was a two-foot length of coarse hemp. And he shimmered with a faint but distinct luminance.
"GodDAMN!" said Archie. "Dirty Pete!"
The apparition dropped its right hand to the butt of the Colt holstered as his side, but Megan had simply pointed her beam projector and the invisible neural shock played over the Phantom. He went completely limp and fell heavily to one side, sliding gracelessly down the side of the boulder and lying in a heap on the cold stony ground.
"Okay. Well, that was kind of a... letdown," Archie muttered as they walked over to the unmoving form. He knelt and extracted the revolver from its holster, then broke its cylinder open to remove the bullets. "You know... I think these are blanks. Yeah, absolutely. He wasn't packing real slugs. That's why Pelham didn't get hurt."
Megan crouched over the unconscious man and tugged off a fake handlebar mustache, then a pair of bushy jaw-length sideburns that had been glued on. She tossed the Stetson to one side and straightened up again. "The alleged Phantom Owlhoot," she said.
"Hey, it's Dr Langston!" Archie blurted out. "Dang."
She gave him a quizzical look. "Of course it's Dr Langston. I thought you had known that for some time."
"Me? Nah. I'm not a Trom genius. What's the deal anyway? Why the crazy masquerade?"
"He will be conscious within a few minutes," she told him. "Perhaps it would be more efficient to let him explain in his own words. I have concluded that the loot from the 1907 robbery is not in fact here in the mine. What was going to be presented as that loot is in fact a collection of gold coins and silver dollars which Langston amassed himself."
The effects of the neural shock wore off quickly, with no lingering effects. Langston shook his head and sat up as alert as if he had just been resting for a second. He saw Megan Salenger watching him with clinical interest, fists on her narrow hips, and behind her was the imposing bulk of Archie McAllister.
"Who are you two? What are you doing here?P" he yelled.
"I have confiscated your pistol," answered the Trom Girl in an even tone. "The sheriff is on his way. Perhaps you wish to confirm my theory. Five years ago, you came into illicit possession of a large sum of money. Although you could spend a little at a time without drawing attention, you wanted a lavish lifestyle. Your solution was to quietly begin buying old coins, a few at a time. Mostly on eBay, I imagine, or through mail order dealers, using a variety of false names. You gathered the full amount in old Gold Eagles and silver dollars."
Still wearing his phosphorescent cowboy outfit, Langston got to his hands and knees and slowly rose. "Aw, you got it all wrong, missy..."
As if she had not heard him, Megan continued. "You read about the legend here of the stagecoach robbery and the Phantom Owlhoot. Your plan was to frighten people away by making appearances in that guise, and then claiming you had found the missing loot while investigating the local ghost. You would have a million dollars you could spend."
"You... you got it all backwards," Langston began and then was cut off by a mocking female voice behind them.
"She's right in some ways, but she's blaming the wrong person," said that voice. Both Megan and Archie swung around to see a tall, middle-aged woman standing behind them at the mine entrance. She had greying black hair tied up in a bun, wore sensible hiking clothes and was aiming a Winchester 30.-.30 directly at them.
"You resemble this man closely," Megan said as calmly as if she was not being threatened by a rifle. "Can I conclude you are his sister, Tracey Langston?"
"You got that right." The woman took a few tense steps closer, staying out of reach. She was obviously fighting down furious anger and her eyes were narrow. "But it wasn't that fool there who was behind it. Alan never had the brains for anything like this. It was my money, I stole it from a mob courier who had been killed and got away without being identified. But I was afraid they had an eye on me and would move in if I started to spend it. So I began the whole slow procedure with buying old coins."
Tracey Langston swung the barrel of the Winchester from Megan to Archie and back again, covering them both. "It's taken five years! Five long agonizing years in which I had to scrape by when I could have lived like royalty. Now I'm ready for some luxury and you meddling idiots are not going to screw it up."
With genuine puzzlement, Archie broke in, "I don't get it. Why was the doc here dressed up like a ghost cowboy then? Was he scaring people away so you could split the money?"
"What? Are you stupid?" the woman snorted. "It wasn't going to frighten anyone. He was going to draw lots of attention and bring curious people here to get in the way. Alan hoped someone would find the strongbox where I had buried it and claim the treasure! He just didn't want me to profit from all my hard work because he was jealous."
"Now hold on," Dr Langston began but his sister cut him off with, "Shut up! After all these years, none of you are going to ruin things for me. I'll just take the coins and pretend to find them somewhere else. But you three are a problem." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't risk any of you talking."
As she said that, she pointed the rifle directly at Archie. Even as Tracey Langston squeezed the trigger, Megan leaped in the way and took the bullet right in the center of her chest. The impact caught her in mid-stride. The Trom Girl was spun completely around and hurled to the rocky ground of the mine entrance with a gasp.
For a full two seconds, the woman froze motionless, taken a bit aback at what she had done. Despite her determination, Tracey Langston had never actually shot a person before and the unexpected sensation paralyzed her with doubt for a bare instant. In that instant, Archie McAllister took two quick steps forward and punched her across the face as hard as he could. He was a big, easy-going fellow but he had been in a few bar fights in his time and he knew how to hit. The woman arched her back as both feet left the ground and she fell in a limp heap. The rifle clattered away.
Enraged, Archie spun just in time to see Alan Langston start to try to creep away. "Hold it!" he bellowed at the man in the cowboy costume. "Don't you DARE move. I'll bend you up like a balloon animal."
The man cringed and sat back down on a pile of rocks. Archie went over to where Megan was getting back on her feet. "Honey, how bad are you hurt? I'll call 911...!"
"Oh, no, I'm okay," she grunted as she stood up. "The armor dissipates impact over its entire surface. It just feels like I was struck hard, but there's no serious damage." She glanced over at the senseless form of Tracey Langston a few feet away. "Good work, Archie. When a gentle person gets angry, there's nothing more awesome."
"Huh? Yeah, I wasn't stopping to think. I just saw you go down and I blew up. Well. I guess we have all the answers now."
The Trom Girl rubbed her aching chest gingerly. There would be a bruise there soon. "Yes. I was basically correct, you know. My error was in misjudging why someone was posing as the Phantom Owlhoot. The motive was the same. Tracey was still going to pretend to find a fortune in illegal money. No matter who had to die."
"Yep," Archie grinned. "And she would have gotten away with it too, if if hadn't been for us 'meddling idiots'."
12/31/2015
A Trom Girl Mystery
5/29/2004
I.
Megan Salenger assured herself by Archie's breathing that he was soundly asleep. Slowly and carefully, she slid off her side of the bed in the Holiday Inn and stepped away to stand naked in the center of the room. At twenty-three, she was slim and sleek with small breasts and narrow hips. Only five foot three, Megan had the trim muscles of a gymnast or acrobat, not obtrusive but functional.
The Trom Girl brushed her tousled head of black hair back away from her face and smiled down at Archie. What a pleasant surprise to find she enjoyed sex so much. She had waited so long because of her repressed upbringing. Their first time together had been in fact her first time, and it had been awkward and hesitant but she quickly had grown to love making love. For a while, it had been all she had wanted to do. Meeting Archie had been one revelation about herself after another.
Outside the drawn curtains, only the faint lights of the parking lot showed dimly. It wasn't quite dawn yet. Megan stood in the center of the room, fists by her side and feet together, and bowed low to Teacher Chael at Tel Shai, farther away than miles could measure. She had to practice her Doh Ra. First, there was a series of poses and stances that gradually became slow motion punches and blocks and kicks. The movements sped up. Soon her arms and legs were whipping and blurring as she seemed to be fighting an imaginary group of opponents, then the motion decelerated again until she was holding difficult poses and slowly coming to a halt.
The whole process took a little over forty minutes. Her individual Doh Ra had been planned specifically for her by Teacher Chael, and at its end every muscle had been stretched and warmed up while reinforcing the memory of Kumundu attacks and defenses into her reflexes. Chael emphasized constantly that full contact sparring was the other half of Kumundu training. She was sweating very lightly, barely breathing any faster than when she had started, and she felt great. Her childhood under the board of Trom supervisors had always emphasised taking care of her body as well as stretching her mind as far as Human limits would reach.
Archie had not stirred, except to turn over on his other side. Still making no sound, Megan slipped into the bathroom and took a quick shower under steaming hot water. She dried her hair roughly with a towel and was back out in the main room within a few minutes. The Trom Girl went over to the chair by the big double bed and held up what looked like a leotard of dark silk that had a sheen to it. Almost with regret, she opened it on its inner paramagnetic seams and tugged it on. Except for her feet and hands and above her shoulders, she was now covered in Trom armor that would stop even a high-powered rifle bullet but which was so light and flexible that it was not restrictive at all. Megan had a strong urge to skip wearing it today. She was not on KDF business, she was not here in Nevada as a Tel Shai knight, this was a holiday. But prudence won out.
As she tugged on snug white jeans and a black T-shirt, she watched Archie stir and smack his lips and stretch. Megan enjoyed watching him for its own sake. Archie McAllister was a big guy a few years older than she was, with thick black hair on his chest and always a few day's worth of beard. He reminded her so much of a bear the imagery was irresistable. As he rubbed his blue eyes and sat up, he grinned at her, "Morning, Trom Girl. You're eager to get started, eh?"
She leaned over and kissed him lightly, then stepped back to tug the curtains slightly open. Outside was getting brighter. "I am hungry," she answered. "We skipped supper last night, if you remember." Megan picked up a red flannel shirt from the back of the chair where she had tossed it and pulled it on. The Trom armor meant she had to wear long sleeves no matter what the weather was like.
Archie chuckled and got out of bed to stand behind her, hands on her shoulders. He nuzzled the side of her neck. "It was for a good reason. So, listen, you want room service or you want to go out and eat?"
"I would prefer to eat at that diner we saw while driving in, how about you?"
"Suits me fine," he agreed as he headed for the bathroom. She heard the door close and the shower start up. Megan shook her head thoughtfully. This was all so unexpected. A Human orphan raised by the emotionless Trom, she had never even considered the idea of romance in her plans and yet here it was. Nature seemed to take over at a certain point and she had to admit she was glad. Her fellow Tel Shai knights back in New York City had been first stunned and then delighted when she had started dating a motorcycle mechanic and they all were happy for her. Even Unicorn had kept the teasing to a minimum.
As Archie showered, Megan went to her knapsack and started stowing small unidentifiable gadgets in various pockets. The Link itself, her main tool, looked enough like a cellphone in its case on her belt that it would not attract any attention but the beam projector had to be hidden. A dull grey metal oblong that fit easily in the palm of her hand, the projector went into the breast pocket of her flannel shirt which she buttoned. It was a far cry from the dozens of tools and weapons she carried in her KDF field suit but she could not bring herself to discard everything right away.
Still the Trom Girl, she thought.
Archie emerged all scrubbed and wide awake. He began digging through his old Army duffel bag and looking for socks and underwear. "So, hon, what's the agenda today? Going after that ghost sighting?"
"You must think I'm crazy, Archie. This is your vacation, your week away from the garage, and I drag you out into the desert to investigate paranormal activity." Megan Salenger kept the doubt out of her voice, or thought she did. "I must be a nuisance as a girlfriend."
Archie was pulling on her old comfortable jeans and work boots. "Nah, time spent with you is always amazing. You were born to solve puzzles and figure out mysteries, Megan, it's your basic nature. We're better off accepting what we are."
"You seem to accept all the... unusual things about me," she said. "Tel Shai. My upbringing by the Trom. My work with the KDF. Nothing seems to faze you."
Archie buttoned on a heavy denim shirt and rolled up the cuffs over muscular forearms. "Aw, I have to admit it's a lot to take in. But you know, I hitched around Europe two years after I got out of the service. I saw some strange things. It's a funny world with a lot more going on than most people ever realize." He waggled a finger at her. "The so-called Trom, hah! I knew our government had some sort of knowledge retro-engineered from UFO crashes!"
He came over and hugged her, and she returned it fiercely. Looking up into his face, Megan said, "I'm glad. I was worried you would panic and run away when you found out about my life. I couldn't have dealt with that."
"Feh. Megan, you're amazing. It'd be worth going through Hell to be with you. Now, what exactly is your project for today, Trom Girl?"
Pulling away with a grin that made her look even younger, Megan gestured toward the partly opened curtains. "First a huge breakfast. Then we start looking for the local paranormal manifestation... Stone Ridge's 'Phantom 'Owlhoot.'"
II.
After devouring huge amounts of wheatcakes, bacon and scrambled eggs, as well as coffee for Archie and cranberry juice for Megan, they sighed in satisfaction and leaned back in their booth at the diner.
"Now I feel more balanced," she said.
"I still get the urge for a cig after a meal," Archie grumbled. "And it's been two years since my last puff."
"I for one am glad you quit before we met. Your fondness for beer is enough self-destructive behavior." Megan tapped the empty plate in front of her ruefully. "Although I cannot preach since I so frequently deviate from my planned diet."
"Glad to be a corrupting influence," he answered with a leer. "I'll lead you astray in all kinds of ways. Anyway. what's your plan for this ghost hunt?"
"My research has not been satisfactory. There is little information available on this Phantom Owlhoot. There are three newspaper accounts of sightings in 1927, 1949 and 1983. I have read all of them. One month ago, the phenomenon was sighted again outside of this town, near the site of the Gusoff Silver Mine. The glowing figure of a cowboy with a rope around his neck..."
Looking at the bill and figuring an appropriate tip, Archie laid some money down and stood up. "Huh. I thought, you know, that place where you work, the Kenneth Dred Foundation, had information about anything supernatural."
Getting to her feet and stretching, Trom Girl shrugged. "I'm sure the knowledge is there somewhere. Kenneth Dred spent decades building an extensive library of books and articles on the occult. That building is filled with hundreds of thousands of books, but unfortunately he never organized them well. Finding what one seeks is a haphazard proposal at best."
"Too bad." Archie held the door for her and she accepted the gesture. Learning basic social interactions had been difficulty for her after her clinical upbringing. They went down the concrete steps to where her cherry red Jeep Wrangler sat. As always, its rear compartment was stocked with jugs of water, containers of gasoline, food and medical supplies, all carefully separated and secured. She always traveled as if going into a war zone or disaster area.
"I did find one reference that might be relevant," Megan said. Her tone changed to indicate she was quoting something. "In 1907, a drifter named Jed Dunne had made off with over $10,000 in paper cash, silver dollars and gold coins, the haul from a stagecoach robbery. The loot was never recovered and Dunne was never captured. Two months after the robbery, he died alone of pneumonia out on the high plains. It was after only his body was discovered that the connection was made between him and the robbery, since he had a bracelet on him that take been taken during the crime."
Archie grunted to show interest and swung up into the passenger seat as she hopped lightly up behind the wheel. They had not discussed it much, but Megan had a substantial bank account because her KDF stipend had been regularly deposited while she lived for free at the HQ building on East 38th Street in New York City and she spent little on herself. Archie made an okay living restoring and customizing old motorcycles, but he was old-fashioned enough to never dream of using her for money.
Pulling out onto the Main Street of Stone Ridge, Nevada, with its traffic just starting to stir into life, Megan Salenger slipped on a pair of wire-rimmed tinted glasses. "Do these make me look silly?"
"Aw, no, you're cute as all hell. Aviator glasses and a brand new Wrangler, you're fine."
"Good. I have little instinct for style. Dunne's long-time crony, a man called Dirty Pete was accused of the robbery. He refused to talk, tried to escape and shot a child to death as he was riding on a stolen horse toward the vicinity of the silver mine. Between horse stealing and killing a little boy, there was no trial for him. He was lynched from a tree within sight of the mine. Five times since then, a figure of a cowboy with a rope around his neck has been reported around there."
"Yikes," Archie said.
"First, I want to inspect the scene where the phenomenon was reported. Then, there should be a man in the area who may be of use to us. He has written two books about the supernatural and many articles. Dr Alan Langston. My information is that he has also come here to investigate."
Archie smiled as they tore down I-109 at just over the speed limit. He loved the way Megan drove like a fighter pilot, constantly checking all the mirrors and watching other vehicles and monitoring the dashboard. He had gone for a few flights with her in the KDF helicopter CORBY and he realized she drove the Jeep with the same attention she showed behind the stick of the chopper. It was reassuring. You would not catch her texting on her phone or fiddling with the radio while making a turn.
Almost an hour passed before they turned onto a dirt road far outside of town, near outcroppings of boulders that rose to become foothills further back. A yellow wooden sawhorse blocked the road, with a sign CONDEMNED -UNSAFE and a tacked notice from the Sheriff's Department not to proceed any further. There were also a few NO TRESPASSING SIGNS, which Megan blithely ignored as she swerved off the dirt road to keep going.
Ahead, the opening of the old silver mine yawned open. Two-by-fours had been nailed together to form an X over the mouth, with more warnings posted. She brought the Wrangler to a stop and vaulted out as lightly as a gymnast. As Archie watched, Megan slowly circled the entrance, studying every detail, pausing to look from different angles or to kneel and examine the ground.
He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just outside the opening of the mine, two steel tracks emerged with wooden struts between them but the car in which ore had been brought up was long gone. That was it.
After a few more minutes, the Trom Girl straightened up and folded her arms across her chest. "There were at least four separate adult Humans here a few days ago. That cigarette butt is starting to come apart, it was exposed to morning dew. Tire tracks appropriate for a Dodge Ram and for a Hyundai Sonata stop where we are parked, but the Hyundai tracks overlap those of the Dodge, so that car arrived later." She bent over a boulder. "One individual has been seated here within the past twenty-four hours. This broken branch indicates that. The dirt here is oddly disarranged, I can't decide exactly what activity he was performing."
"You got better eyes than I do."
"Yes," she replied in that frequently graceless way she had of commenting. "Look here. Do you see those footprints emerging from the mine but not entering?"
Archie went along with it, crouching low over the loose dirt by steel tracks. "Yeah. I do. What about 'em?"
"They are prints made by cowboy boots. The heels, the square toes. I estimate size 12." She indicated the mouth of the mine and asked, "How can these tracks emerge without having first entered?"
"Hm. Wellllll.... maybe he was walking backward? You know, to leave a false trail?"
She considered this. "I don't think so. The weight distribution would be different. Let's investigate further." She took the beam projector from a pocket and slid open the groove on its upper surface. Around the back of her belt were a half dozen slim rectangular cartridges, and she took one to click it into place.
"Oh, that thing," Archie said. "You gonna burn a hole through something or knock that boulder away?"
"Just visible light for right now," Megan said, thumbing a contact patch. An extremely bright thread of white light shone from the projector, enough to make Archie blink and look away as he saw spots. She adjusted it down to a bearable level and widened the beam into a cone.
"I do not intend to go far into the mine," she told him. "If I see something significant, I will call you."
"Until then, I stay out here and wait?"
"Yes," she answered bluntly and marched into the dark opening. Standing out in the beautiful May sunlight, Archie McAllister sighed. The girl was a sweetheart but sometimes she just showed no social skills. It was almost as if she had been raised by a board of genius scientists, as she claimed. The minutes crawled by. He started to pace and was just beginning to get worried when she emerged again.
Megan replaced the cartridge to her belt and pocketed the beam projector again. She slapped her hands together as if dusting them and announced, "There has been a good deal of recent activity down there, Archie. Yet nothing is present that should not logically be there. I found an antique oil lamp, cracked and dried out, but no objects more recent than that."
"Odd..."
"Yes." The Trom Girl studied the area with obvious dissatisfaction. "My detective skills are not up to my captain's level, I admit. I can observe but not make the correct deductions. Our next step should be to speak with the man who saw the apparition and with Dr Langston."
"Fine with me," Archie said. "I dunno.. maybe I'm being gullible, but there seems to be something kind of creepy around here."
III.
The meeting with Henry Pelham was not productive. He turned out to be a retired bus driver living with his son and daughter-in-law, and evidently he had taken a bit too much teasing over his reporting the sight of a glowing cowboy out in the desert. At first, he refused to even open the front door all the way. Megan was not good at laying on the charm the way Unicorn was, but she was a pretty young woman with a sincere manner and Pelham soon gave in and came out to talk with her. Archie remained discreetly in the Jeep, just out of earshot.
Exactly a week earlier, Pelham had been driving his truck outside of town after a heated argument with his son had left him fuming. He went out for an hour or so to cool off and happened to be barreling past the old silver mine when he noticed a speak of light up on the hill.
As he swung his truck over to stop, Pelham had seen a man watching him from atop the hill. A man in a cowboy suit, complete with Stetson hat and cowhide vest, but shimmering with a faint white radiance. From its loop around his neck hung a length of thick hemp rope. The apparition was close enough that he could see the handlebar mustache on the thing.
Pelham admitted he had gotten out of the truck, walked over for a better view and had not moved moved after that for a few minutes. Relating the experience to everyone, he had insisted he had not been afraid but just curious and had figured it had to have been some sort of prank. He admitted quietly to Megan that, in fact, he had been afraid and uncertain just what was going on. Then the Phantom Owlhoot had whipped out a revolver from a holster on its old-fashioned gunbelt and snapped off four shots directly at him.
Naturally, Pelham had jumped back into his truck and floored it, swinging around and roaring back to town with his heart pounding and difficulty catching his breath. It wasn't until he got home that he felt calmed down enough that heart attack wasn't likely.
"You know what really helped convince me, miss?" Pelham confided in a low voice. "That thing shot at me at point-blank range. I could see inside the barrel of his Colt, he was so close. Even if the Phantom had never fired a gun before, one of those slugs should have hit him or the truck. Nothing. That was the clincher."
Megan Salenger asked him a few more questions and thanked him for his help. She had shown him her credentials, her documentation as a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation and her laminated card as civilian consultant to the New York City Police Department and to Department 21 Black of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. After Pelham had scrutinized these and been satisfied, he went on, "You know, missy, there is another researcher in the paranormal and supernatural and whatever. He's been poking around here too. Guy named Langston. He's staying at a bungalow on the other side of town. You might wanna talk to him."
"I will," the Trom Girl said. "Thank you again. This is a very interesting incident. I'm glad you decided to relate your experience to me."
Joining Archie back at the Wrangler, she asked, "Would you mind driving, hon? I want to think over all the details?"
"Sure, no problem." he said as he climbed out of the passenger seat and went around to get behind the wheel. "I was just close enough to hear most of what you guys said. That bit about the bullets not doing any harm is eerie."
"Another detail interests me. Mr Pelham said he moved here from Los Angeles three years ago to stay with his family. They weren't from around here either, the son had come here for a job. Pelham said he was sure he had never heard of the local folklore before. No one had ever mentioned anything about a Phantom Owlhoot to him."
"Huh." Archie shrugged and turned to look at her for a second."If he's telling the truth, that's another creepy factor to the story."
"My training in reading body language and subvocal variations indicated he was speaking the truth as he knows it." Megan had her arms folded across her chest and a slightly pouting frown. "Interesting. I believe our next step is to meet with Dr Langston. Don't you agree?"
"Already heading there," Archie replied.
IV.
On the outskirts of Stone Ridge was a lake which had been made into a sort of local resort with diving boards, canoes for rent and a floating platform tethered in the middle for swimmers to rest on. A long open wooden structure held a snack bar, bathrooms and changing areas. COLD SPRING LAKE was lettered across the building. Archie pulled into the parking area where a half dozen cars sat, and beyond them were a row of three tiny bungalows.
"Here we go," he said, half as a question. There was only one car up there, a neatly waxed black Kia. "What do you know about this Langston dude anyway, honey?"
"He is only a modest success as an author on the occult. He is thirty-eight years old, unmarried with no children but he has a sister one year older who is said to collaborate with him on his writing." Megan raised her sunglasses and propped them up on her head, scrutinizing the area. "I do not have much more information, I am sorry to say. My working hypothesis is that he read of the Phantom Owlhoot sighting and intends to use it as a subject for an article."
"Yeah, well, there he is now!"
As they got out of the Jeep, Megan and Archie saw a tall thin man emerge through the screen door of the bungalow near them. He was wearing slippers, khaki pants and a white dress shirt, tucked in and with the cuffs rolled back. Alan Langston had a long, slightly horselike face with a bristle of short blond hair topping it. The glasses stayed down on the end of his nose where he evidently preferred them.
"Something I can help you folks with?" he drawled.
"Good morning," said the Trom Girl cheerfully as she approached him. "My name is Megan Salenger, I'm with the Kenneth Dred Foundation from New York. Maybe you've heard of us?"
"Eh? Oh absolutely." He grinned, but whether it was at the KDF reference or the sight of Megan was unclear. "My word, I grew up reading books by Kenneth Dred. He made everything seem so clear, even the more esoteric subjects. And the KDF has been carrying on his work. You're a researcher, then?"
"I am." she answered. "This is my colleague Archie. As you might guess, we are here in Nevada because of the Phantom Owlhoot sightings..."
"Hold on. Just hold on there. I've been investigating the apparition for some time now. Now, I can't claim the subject for my own but I don't know if I want to just share my results with you..."
Megan sounded just a little hurt. "I have no intention of usurping your work, Dr Langston. It seems logical that we should pool our efforts in this research, doesn't it?"
"And rush your book into print before mine? Stealing my potential sales? Using the Kenneth Dred name like a trademark? I don't THINK so!" Langston stepped back into the bungalow and closed the door firmly, just short of slamming it in their faces. Megan turned her huge dark eyes on Archie with a wounded expression. "I did not foresee that reaction, honey. He doesn't trust my integrity?"
"Naw, I don't think that's it." He put a big hand on her shoulder and drew her in for a squeezing side hug. "Tell you what I think. He's got something else eatin' at him, you just got in the line of fire. He would have snapped at someone bothering him to ask directions or just saying hello."
"That is what you think? You understand the minute details of Human interaction so much better than I do." She remained snuggled up close to him. "I have to admit it, Archie, being raised by the Trom has left me feeling alienated. Sometimes I feel like wherever I go, I'm in a foreign country."
"He's a jerk. Don't let him bother you." He steered her back toward the Jeep. "Tell you what. We'll give him another chance before we leave. He might have thought it over and be all apologetic. Meanwhile, you have lots of data to analyze from that mine site. You think it all over while I drive us back to the motel."
"Yes." She climbed up into the passenger seat. "There is one odd detail. Pelham said he was fired at within point-blank range but I saw no marks on his vehicle and there were no signs at the silver mine of a bullet hitting a rock or brush. I looked carefully. That's an interesting factor."
Archie shrugged as he started up the Wrangler and drew his shoulder restraint down. "Makes sense, though. Ghost cowboy shooting ghost bullets."
On their way back to Stone Ridge, Archie snapped his fingers. "Hey. You know it's after four o'clock. Either a late lunch or an early supper, but I think we need something."
"Why don't you use your judgement, Archie? Whatever looks good to you." She took the Link from her belt and patched into the phone system to call New York City with no chance of being traced or overheard. "Hi. Unicorn? It's me, out in Nevada, still looking into that Phantom Owlhoot sighting. What? That's none of your business. No, you don't need to know how many times we have 'done it' since leaving Manhattan. What? Can you be maid of honor? What are you TALKING about?! Let me speak to Sable."
After a few more minutes, Megan got Unicorn to settle down and report. There had not been much information on the Phantom Owlhoot phenomenon even in the vast library of occult literature Kenneth Dred had amassed in his lifetime. Sightings were at irregular intervals, and were actually not very dramatic. Someone out by the old silver mine would see a luminous cowboy with a noose around his neck, but the apparition never chased anyone or made threatening gestures. Once, in 1948, the ghost of Dirty Pete had been reported mounted on a similarly glowing white horse. As repeating apparitions went, the Phantom Owlhoot was not very notorious. No serious effort had been made by investigators to look into it.
"Until now," Megan said into her Link. "Now we are here at the same time Dr Langston is. What? Thank you, Ashley, but we do not require you to come to the rescue. Thank you anyway. Sorry? Yes, I will consider naming our first child after you." Her tone got just a bit icy. "You have been very helpful, I will see you when we get back. Goodbye."
As the Trom Girl clipped the Link back on her belt, she sighed audibly.
"That little girl's a joker, all right," Archie said. "She teases you because she thinks the world of you, you know that?"
"I think so," Megan agreed after a moment. "It took me a while to realize that. When we first worked together, she annoyed me immensely."
"Always more to learn about human nature," Archie said. "That's the truth. Look, how about this place here, JUANITA'S? You feel like tackling some Mexican food?"
She blinked and seemed surprised that they had pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant by the side of the road with bright yellow and red neon letters on the roof. "I am very hungry, Archie. I hadn't noticed."
An hour later, they emerged in a more sanguine mood than when they had entered. "I haven't had that brand of beer in a long time, now that hit my spot. How you feeling, Meg?"
"To be honest, I suspect I ate beyond a comfortable capacity. It will not be dark for hours. Can we return to the motel and rest until it is time to go back to the mine?"
"Sure thing." He held the Jeep door open for her affectionately. "Who knows how late we're going to be up tonight?"
V.
Around eight, Archie stirred and sat up on the double bed, where he had dozed off while reading the local newspaper. He ruffled his coarse hair with one hand and yawned. "What's the story, Trom Girl?"
From where she had been sitting in a chair by the window, Megan Salenger rose to her feet. "I have been considering this case from what i believe to be every possible combination of factors. I have reached some tentative conclusion." She went over and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Archie, my mind works at genius level but I will never be a first-rate investigator until I know people better. You are much wiser about human behavior than I think I will ever be."
"Well, I'm street smart," he said agreeably. "I left home when I was seventeen, joined the Army, bummed around Europe. Maybe I don't know science like you do, but I'm okay in my own way."
Megan leaned forward and kissed him slowly, disengaging with an audible smack as their lips parted. "I'm glad," she said. "Are you ready to go look for the ghost of Dirty Pete?"
He rolled off the bed and starting lacing up his well-worn tan work shoes. "It gets chilly at night out there. Maybe bring a jacket."
"Thank you." Megan took her dark windbreaker from its hanger. "Ashley said she found out Dr Langston was here because she tried to reach him for information. She said she dug further and found that Langston's sister had also flown out here a day after he had left. She thought this was odd because apparently they don't get along."
Tugging on a denim jacket, Archie frowned. "And what does that suggest?"
"I am not sure. It has some significance, but I do not know what." She sounded just a little annoyed. "The Trom taught me not to give any weight to hunches, yet I seem to find hunches are often very relevant."
As Archie stood by the door, he saw her take the beam projector from her breast pocket and click a cartridge in place. "Let me guess. The heat beam? That photon ram that knocks doors down?"
"Just the neural shock," she answered. "I didn't bring one of the anesthetic dart guns. Really, I should leave most of these devices at headquarters when on holiday."
He escorted her out into a pleasant May evening, checking that the room door was locked behind them. "You know, this is the third time we've investigated something weird together. Each time, something comes up that makes me glad you carry those gadgets." He chuckled. "The third of 'the Trom Girl Mysteries'"
VI.
They had left the Jeep more than a mile behind, parked well off the dirt road, and had hiked up to the mouth of the old silver mine. It was not completely dark even at eleven, with stars in a clear sky and the thinnest crescent moon possible. Megan had brought two powerful pencil flashlights but they had not needed them.
As they cuddled up against the rock outcropping, Archie said, "Man, you know how many guys tonight would love be sitting out under the stars with a pretty girl like you? They'd pray the Phantom Owlhoot NEVER shows?"
Megan did not seem to have taken in the comment. "Archie, indications showed there had been considerable activity within that mile before the recent Owlhoot sighting. So it was not the ghost that drew people here recently."
"Huh. Okay... so they were looking for the buried loot from the robbery?"
"I don't think that is likely," she said just above a whisper. "This vicinity has been thoroughly searched for decades in attempts to find that treasure. Nothing was dug up. No, I suspect the opposite action was undertaken..."
Before she could explain that statement, Archie gave a gulp and leaped to his feet. She was immediately up beside him.
Standing on a twelve foot high boulder opposite them, seemingly appearing from nowhere, was a man in a worn Western outfit, completely from Stetson hat to gunbelt to cowhide vest. Dangling from a noose around his neck was a two-foot length of coarse hemp. And he shimmered with a faint but distinct luminance.
"GodDAMN!" said Archie. "Dirty Pete!"
The apparition dropped its right hand to the butt of the Colt holstered as his side, but Megan had simply pointed her beam projector and the invisible neural shock played over the Phantom. He went completely limp and fell heavily to one side, sliding gracelessly down the side of the boulder and lying in a heap on the cold stony ground.
"Okay. Well, that was kind of a... letdown," Archie muttered as they walked over to the unmoving form. He knelt and extracted the revolver from its holster, then broke its cylinder open to remove the bullets. "You know... I think these are blanks. Yeah, absolutely. He wasn't packing real slugs. That's why Pelham didn't get hurt."
Megan crouched over the unconscious man and tugged off a fake handlebar mustache, then a pair of bushy jaw-length sideburns that had been glued on. She tossed the Stetson to one side and straightened up again. "The alleged Phantom Owlhoot," she said.
"Hey, it's Dr Langston!" Archie blurted out. "Dang."
She gave him a quizzical look. "Of course it's Dr Langston. I thought you had known that for some time."
"Me? Nah. I'm not a Trom genius. What's the deal anyway? Why the crazy masquerade?"
"He will be conscious within a few minutes," she told him. "Perhaps it would be more efficient to let him explain in his own words. I have concluded that the loot from the 1907 robbery is not in fact here in the mine. What was going to be presented as that loot is in fact a collection of gold coins and silver dollars which Langston amassed himself."
The effects of the neural shock wore off quickly, with no lingering effects. Langston shook his head and sat up as alert as if he had just been resting for a second. He saw Megan Salenger watching him with clinical interest, fists on her narrow hips, and behind her was the imposing bulk of Archie McAllister.
"Who are you two? What are you doing here?P" he yelled.
"I have confiscated your pistol," answered the Trom Girl in an even tone. "The sheriff is on his way. Perhaps you wish to confirm my theory. Five years ago, you came into illicit possession of a large sum of money. Although you could spend a little at a time without drawing attention, you wanted a lavish lifestyle. Your solution was to quietly begin buying old coins, a few at a time. Mostly on eBay, I imagine, or through mail order dealers, using a variety of false names. You gathered the full amount in old Gold Eagles and silver dollars."
Still wearing his phosphorescent cowboy outfit, Langston got to his hands and knees and slowly rose. "Aw, you got it all wrong, missy..."
As if she had not heard him, Megan continued. "You read about the legend here of the stagecoach robbery and the Phantom Owlhoot. Your plan was to frighten people away by making appearances in that guise, and then claiming you had found the missing loot while investigating the local ghost. You would have a million dollars you could spend."
"You... you got it all backwards," Langston began and then was cut off by a mocking female voice behind them.
"She's right in some ways, but she's blaming the wrong person," said that voice. Both Megan and Archie swung around to see a tall, middle-aged woman standing behind them at the mine entrance. She had greying black hair tied up in a bun, wore sensible hiking clothes and was aiming a Winchester 30.-.30 directly at them.
"You resemble this man closely," Megan said as calmly as if she was not being threatened by a rifle. "Can I conclude you are his sister, Tracey Langston?"
"You got that right." The woman took a few tense steps closer, staying out of reach. She was obviously fighting down furious anger and her eyes were narrow. "But it wasn't that fool there who was behind it. Alan never had the brains for anything like this. It was my money, I stole it from a mob courier who had been killed and got away without being identified. But I was afraid they had an eye on me and would move in if I started to spend it. So I began the whole slow procedure with buying old coins."
Tracey Langston swung the barrel of the Winchester from Megan to Archie and back again, covering them both. "It's taken five years! Five long agonizing years in which I had to scrape by when I could have lived like royalty. Now I'm ready for some luxury and you meddling idiots are not going to screw it up."
With genuine puzzlement, Archie broke in, "I don't get it. Why was the doc here dressed up like a ghost cowboy then? Was he scaring people away so you could split the money?"
"What? Are you stupid?" the woman snorted. "It wasn't going to frighten anyone. He was going to draw lots of attention and bring curious people here to get in the way. Alan hoped someone would find the strongbox where I had buried it and claim the treasure! He just didn't want me to profit from all my hard work because he was jealous."
"Now hold on," Dr Langston began but his sister cut him off with, "Shut up! After all these years, none of you are going to ruin things for me. I'll just take the coins and pretend to find them somewhere else. But you three are a problem." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't risk any of you talking."
As she said that, she pointed the rifle directly at Archie. Even as Tracey Langston squeezed the trigger, Megan leaped in the way and took the bullet right in the center of her chest. The impact caught her in mid-stride. The Trom Girl was spun completely around and hurled to the rocky ground of the mine entrance with a gasp.
For a full two seconds, the woman froze motionless, taken a bit aback at what she had done. Despite her determination, Tracey Langston had never actually shot a person before and the unexpected sensation paralyzed her with doubt for a bare instant. In that instant, Archie McAllister took two quick steps forward and punched her across the face as hard as he could. He was a big, easy-going fellow but he had been in a few bar fights in his time and he knew how to hit. The woman arched her back as both feet left the ground and she fell in a limp heap. The rifle clattered away.
Enraged, Archie spun just in time to see Alan Langston start to try to creep away. "Hold it!" he bellowed at the man in the cowboy costume. "Don't you DARE move. I'll bend you up like a balloon animal."
The man cringed and sat back down on a pile of rocks. Archie went over to where Megan was getting back on her feet. "Honey, how bad are you hurt? I'll call 911...!"
"Oh, no, I'm okay," she grunted as she stood up. "The armor dissipates impact over its entire surface. It just feels like I was struck hard, but there's no serious damage." She glanced over at the senseless form of Tracey Langston a few feet away. "Good work, Archie. When a gentle person gets angry, there's nothing more awesome."
"Huh? Yeah, I wasn't stopping to think. I just saw you go down and I blew up. Well. I guess we have all the answers now."
The Trom Girl rubbed her aching chest gingerly. There would be a bruise there soon. "Yes. I was basically correct, you know. My error was in misjudging why someone was posing as the Phantom Owlhoot. The motive was the same. Tracey was still going to pretend to find a fortune in illegal money. No matter who had to die."
"Yep," Archie grinned. "And she would have gotten away with it too, if if hadn't been for us 'meddling idiots'."
12/31/2015
